


A Stroke of Serendipity

by masongirl



Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: Accidents, Airplanes, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amusement Parks, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Clubbing, Crush at First Sight, Dancing, Drabble, Elevators, Fashion & Couture, First Aid, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, Hook-Up, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Matchmaking, Meet-Cute, Running, Walking, lockdown - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:48:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28673976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masongirl/pseuds/masongirl
Summary: Meet-cute drabbles with my favourite ships.Chapter 1: Speirton - VertigoChapter 2: Winnix - Recreational WalkingChapter 3: Speirton - Emergency LandingChapter 4: Luztoye - Lockdown flirtChapter 5: Speirton - Silent disco
Relationships: Carwood Lipton/Ronald Speirs, George Luz/Joseph Toye, Lewis Nixon/Richard Winters
Comments: 18
Kudos: 49





	1. Vertigo (Speirton)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lip is working at a theme park when Ron's niece asks for his help.

Working at a theme park isn’t as glamorous as it may seem at first glance. Most employees are hired part-time and they aren’t paid nearly enough to put up with the obnoxious, repetitive pop music for months. Not to mention the constant high-pitched shrieking that comes from the cheap rides all around them. Carwood needed a casual job, and the organizers wanted someone strong, but kind-looking enough to remove unwanted elements without scaring the children. It’s simple. There’s nothing remarkable about it. No festive spirit hides in garish, unimaginative plastic products or battered rollercoasters. Frankly, it's quite boring.

That must be the reason why Carwood's heart starts racing when a little girl runs up to him and tugs at his sleeve.

"My uncle!" She yells, aghast. "He's dying!"

Carwood's eyes widen in alarm. He takes the kid's hand and follows the line of her pointing finger to a guy around his age who's bent over his knees, sitting collapsed on a bench on the opposite side of the crowded path. A sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead, and his eyes are squeezed shut.

“Are you okay?” Carwood asks softly as he sits down next to him. It’s a stupid question, because the man is obviously nowhere near okay. He’s hanging his head like he’s going to hurl any second now.

"Vertigo." He pants, struggling not to throw up.

Carwood winces. Although he has seen his fair share of these cases from a distance, it's Doc Roe who deals with them, not park security. “Can I get you some water?”

The guy hums yes, dropping his head further down and cradling it with his hands. He's shaking and his skin is white as a sheet, but he's not in his death throes yet, because when Carwood takes a step away with his niece, he reaches out and drags her back. Under the severe frown of his eyebrows, he has green eyes that captivate Carwood even though they sparkle with distrust and pain. Carwood gives him a reassuring smile and leaves the little girl by the bench.

"I'll be back in a second."

They have bottled water in most of the break rooms, and he grabs one in the "Staff Only" nook hidden behind the Excalibur attraction. Rushing past the swing carousel, he jogs back to the stranger and his niece, only to see him back on his feet, spitting in a trash can while the little girl is patting his back. Standing, he's about as tall as Carwood, but his frame is slimmer, and there's dark stubble on his jaw.

"Thanks." The man grunts and snatches the bottle from Carwood's grip to rinse his mouth with the water.

After a few tentative gulps, he pours some in his palm and spreads it on his forehead, then slicks his fringe out of his face. It tumbles back down, damp and curling into a messy wave. The tracks the water left on his face glisten in the neon glow cast by the closest sweet stall, and when he closes his eyes again, his wet eyelashes spread out over his ashen cheeks.

Carwood blushes. "Feeling better?"

"Marginally." The guy sighs, then a wry smile appears in the corners of his lips. Throwing up hasn't dampened his attractiveness in the slightest, unfortunately. "Not my best moment."

"Don't worry, I've seen it all." Carwood shrugs, tilting his head and smiling, despite the voice in his head that calls him a fool and cackles, _already_? He ignores it in favour of basking in the warmth that spreads through his body as he looks the man over, from his boots to the loose scarf around his neck. This is the first exciting thing that happened to him all week.

"You're not the first to underestimate these contraptions."

"I can imagine." The stranger says drily, patting his niece's head. She yelps in protest and pushes his hand away before he could mess up her hairdo. Jostled by the movement, Carwood's crush staggers under another wave of nausea and has to grab onto Carwood's arm for a second. "Sorry. That carousel did a number on me."

"We went five times." The little girl pipes up, sounding like she would have signed up for a dozen more.

"Oh, really?" Carwood chuckles, unable to look away from the stranger's eyes. His pulse races, as if ignited by a spark. "I'm not surprised then."

"That makes one of us." The guy says, then gives Carwood a playful glance. "You know, I'll buy you a coffee if you help me set it on fire."

Carwood's smile widens.


	2. Recreational Walking (Winnix)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nix is bored in lockdown, so he goes for a walk and promptly acquires a crush.

Seventeen. That’s how many steps it takes to get to the kitchen from Nix’s bedroom. Ten to his office, seven to the bathroom. If he “commutes” between his workplace and the bedroom four times a day, goes to the loo every few hours and keeps snacking junk food throughout the day, he takes a grand total of what, 1000 steps? Like solitary confinement. Nix is fed up with it. The only sunshine he sees is filtered through his windows, and he’s not entirely sure his normal clothes still fit him because he and his sweatpants have become symbiotic. There are no parties he can drink his way through, no face-to-face meetings that require him to shave, no theatre, no bars. He’s bored out of his mind.

“Just go to your dad’s golf course.” His mother offers oh-so-helpfully, so Nix decides to straight-up ignore that advice and to take a walk around the block instead. 

And since he has made up his mind about it, why not go all out? He removes the berserker beard that covers most of his face, finds his favourite business casual slacks, a crimson button-down, a suit jacket and his nice winter coat. He’s just about to top it off with a scarf when he realizes he’s missing a necessary accessory.

“Stupid mask.” He grumbles and goes back for it, hating his entire existence.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s standing in front of his apartment building, contemplating which way to go. Which wonderful attraction to visit? The corner store, the playground or the take-away-only Italian pizza place? Ah, a plethora of choices. 

He’s torn between a coin toss and a frustrated elevator ride back up to his flat when he spots him.

A tall, fit guy in running clothes, with strong legs that propel him past Nix at a light jog. He’s wearing a hat, but Nix catches a glimpse of the red hair at his flushed nape. And his ass in those tight pants… God, he’s gorgeous. Nix might have been deprived of eye candy in the past few months, but he knows a handsome man when he sees one. 

Spellbound, he follows him and keeps his eyes on his rapidly shrinking form in the distance until the guy turns a corner and disappears from sight. It’s enough to brighten Nix’s week.

After the roaring success of his first recreational walk, Nix makes a resolution to go every day, whenever he feels like falling asleep from doing nothing in front of the computer. Unfortunately, he wasn’t smart enough to take a note of the time when he spotted Mr Tall, Pale and Handsome, so he needs almost two weeks to figure out the guy’s running schedule. On his daily walks, Nix sees him by the pharmacy further down the street, at the other side of the park that contains the playground and behind the gate of a nearby apartment complex. It’s plenty enough information to assume he lives within five minutes of Nix’s place, and that thought is maddening. To know that he’s so close, yet so far out of reach. Nix isn’t used to this feeling, of his heart aching whenever his and the stranger’s eyes meet. He’s not one to pine.

Damn it, he has to do something!

One cloudy Wednesday, he settles down on his criminally comfy sofa with a glass of Vat 69 and opens his laptop. A futile social media search and half a dozen impulsive purchases later, he’s pretty satisfied with himself. A hint of optimism burrows into the thick coat of cynicism that permeates his mood. He has a strategy.

Three days later, he’s once again standing on the sidewalk, now in his brand new running gear, and he feels like an idiot. In the middle of a pandemic, who the hell would let a weird stranger join them on their afternoon run? He must have been drunker than usual when he concocted this brilliant idea. The problem is, he’s stone-cold sober now and it’s starting to become embarrassing that he’s just standing there in the chilly January weather. 

But then, finally, Nix’s dream guy shows up, looking flushed and sweaty and attractive as ever. His dynamic pace falters for a moment when he notices Nix. He frowns. _This is where he’s going to turn around to avoid me,_ Nix thinks, but Mr Handsome proves him wrong. He resumes his route and comes all the way over to Nix. His blue eyes are wide and attentive above the simple black mask that hides most of his face.

“Is this a New Year's resolution?” The guy asks, at the same time as Nix opens his mouth.

“Mind if I join you?”

They both blink and answer at once.

_“No.”  
_ _“Yes.”_

Nix laughs, and the stranger’s eyes crinkle at the corners, like he’s grinning too. “You recognize me?”

Mr Handsome’s eyebrows rise almost imperceptibly. “Not many people wear slacks for a walk.”

“Yeah, well, I like to go for a classy look.” Nix drawls, more at ease with every second that he spends in the guy’s company. He has a nice voice too - calm and honest. None of the usual smarmy, forced kindness that reeks from most of Nix’s acquaintances. Out of habit, Nix extends a hand, then withdraws it immediately, making a fool of himself. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“Yeah.” The man sighs, eyeing Nix’s gloved palm with a sad look.

“Lewis Nixon.” Nix clears his throat. “Just call me Nix.”

“Dick Winters.” Mr Handsome replies and starts jogging in place. “Are you an experienced runner?”

“No.” Nix tells him, unashamed. He smirks, although he doubts it’s noticeable in anything but his voice. “But I have every confidence in my ability to bribe you if I can’t keep up.”

Dick laughs and takes off.


	3. Emergency landing (Speirton)

After 10 hours behind the wheel, it's not a surprise that Carwood's eyes are more sensitive than usual. He tries to rub the sting out of them, but to no avail. His heavy eyelids struggle more and more with every blink.

He yawns. 

"Come on, you're almost there." He tells himself. It's Christmas Eve, and he promised his mom he would make it home tonight. He's so close… It's only five minutes on the highway and just a few more through Huntington's quiet streets.

Suddenly, a blinding ray of light pierces his gaze through the reflection in the rearview mirror. He groans and squints against it, unable to make out the shape of this asshole's vehicle. His small car shakes when he steps on the brakes. Is it going to fall apart under him? The glare disappears, as if it has never been there in the first place.

"What the hell?" Carwood mumbles, but he doesn't have the time to come up with a logical explanation, because the same bright light appears ahead of him. Something is terribly wrong.

A booming, whirring noise surrounds him in all directions, like an invisible whirlwind, then a split second later, a plane lands right in front of his eyes. 

It's on fire. 

"Jesus Christ!" He exclaims, hitting the brakes with so much force that the seatbelt feels like a punch to his chest, and his tires screech on the asphalt. For a moment, he just gapes dumbly, half-suspecting that he's hallucinating. There is no way a plane has just crashed on a near deserted highway in West Virginia. In his exhaustion, his mind must have made up an augmented reality and slipped it over his sight. He should have stopped at a motel and got some rest. 

But then, enveloped in the angry orange flames, a man scrambles out of the remains of the small aircraft and makes it a good 30 yards away from it before falling on the ground by the guard rail. That jolts Carwood out of his astonishment, and he jumps out of his car. Behind him, he can hear someone's voice, already calling 911. 

"I'm all right." The man on the ground starts when Carwood skids to his knees next to him. His voice is hoarse. "Fucking birds."

He pushes himself up on his elbows, but Carwood presses him back down with a gentle hand on his chest. "Don't move."

It earns him an amused glance. "I've been through worse, don't worry." 

"You might go into shock. Take it easy." Isn't unreasonably calm behaviour a sign of shock? Why can't he remember anything about first aid?

"I'm not in shock." The man says sullenly, but he closes his eyes and breathes like he's just run a marathon. He's swimming in sweat and his face is red and streaked with dirt, probably from the heat and the smoke. There's steam evaporating from his skin, illuminated in the cold air. "I'm fine." 

A cloudy memory surfaces in Carwood's mind. He strips off his jacket and drapes it over the pilot's torso, then moves to the guy's feet and puts them on his lap, raising his legs to help the blood flow. 

"I'm not in shock." The stranger repeats, but he doesn't resist the position. The chilly wind makes his wavy fringe flop from one side to the other. Carwood shivers, wishing he could summon his coat from the car. He rubs the man's shins through his trousers. Christ, where are the paramedics? It feels like he's been kneeling on the asphalt for hours now, although it couldn't have been more than a few minutes.

"Did you have any passengers?" He asks, shooting the wreck a worried glance. His breath leaves him in a relieved rush when the pilot shakes his head. "What's your name?"

"Ron." The man mumbles and opens his eyes. They're round and alert, but Carwood can't make out their colour in the dim light. "Yours?"

"I'm Carwood."

A minute passes in silence, with nothing but the whistling wind and the faint sounds of yelling and honking drifting on it. No ambulance siren yet, unfortunately. Carwood smiles and keeps stroking Ron's legs to reassure him. Ron watches him for a long time, perhaps finding comfort in the unwavering eye contact. 

When he speaks up at last, his tone is teasing. "Nice sweater."

Carwood snorts. It's his mom's work, knitted with love and care and the imperfection that's so charming in all things homemade. "Thank you."

Ron's lips curl into a sweet smile. "I'm still not in shock."

Carwood can't help but laugh and spread his arms. "I know, but I don't know what else to do."

Ron laughs with him, but his lungs can't handle the strain after all the smoke he must have inhaled. He breaks into a coughing fit, gasping for breath. When he raises a hand to his mouth and props himself up on an elbow again, the jacket slips off his chest and pools around his waist. Carwood puts his feet down and scoots over to wrap it around him properly again. Ron uses the opportunity to sit up and grabs Carwood's hand for support. 

"I'm sorry I ruined your Christmas Eve." He chokes out, just as the familiar wail of the first responders cuts through the night. The red-blue lights appear in the distance.

"Don't worry about it." Carwood puts his free hand on Ron's back. "Do you know anyone in Huntington?"

When Ron shakes his head, he pauses. The thought of leaving him alone makes Carwood uneasy, which is ridiculous, because it's not his responsibility, they haven't spent more than twenty minutes together, he shouldn't care. But he does. Something tells him that he's being irrational, and maybe it's a result of his tiredness, but an impulsive offer slips out of his mouth.

"Want me to come to the hospital with you?"

Stunned, Ron stares at him for a beat. "Whoever made that sweater for you wouldn't be happy."

Carwood smiles and tightens his grip on Ron's hand. "It's Christmas. She'll understand."


	4. Lockdown flirt (Luztoye)

One last glance into the mirror, a lock of hair flicked back into place, antibacterial gel in pocket. All done. With his FFP2 and the brand new beauty of his floral mask secured around his ears, George is ready to take on the world. Well, he wouldn't quite go that far with lockdown and everything, but at least, he can face the dangers of the corner shop now. Time to stock up for a weekend of nothing special. How exciting!

He steps out of his apartment and feels a thrill budding in his chest as he skips his way through the pale yellow corridor to the elevator. He presses the call button with his elbow and takes a deep breath, not giving a single fuck that the dust mask is sucked to his mouth and nose for a moment. The barest traces of his own cologne make it past the barrier, which puts him in a lively mood. Life is so wonderful, full of noises and smells and those little surprises he never noticed before this quarantine.

The elevator arrives with a cheerful ping, and he raises his leg to step forward before he could think about it, which is probably the only reason why he doesn't shrink back when he realizes that someone is already inside. It's a slender guy clad in worn leather pants and a blue coat. Effortlessly stylish. George takes one look at him above the rim of his vibrant turquoise mask and almost stumbles over his own feet from the wave of attraction that hits him. 

"Hi." He grins flirtatiously before his expression falters. Is it even visible under all this face covering?

The stranger raises his eyebrows and fixes his soulful eyes on George. He gives George's flamboyant clothes a once-over. "Hello."

George shifts on his feet, standing in the farthest corner from the guy although he wishes he could shimmy up to him like he would if they were in a club. The silence feels awkward. Neither of them presses the close door button though, because there's something smeared on it and George's hands are already parched from the constant sanitizing as it is. He sure as hell doesn't want to touch that germ pool.

"I'm George. George Luz." He pipes up, unable to keep his mouth shut. The wretched elevator groans and starts its journey down.

"Joe." The guy says, which means he might not have written George off as a complete weirdo yet.

"Are you new here?" George asks, still smiling. Hell knows why.

"No." Joe replies curtly, then seems to think better of it and tilts his head. "I moved here in March."

"Oh."

"Great timing." Joe drawls, and the corners of his eyes crinkle just a tiny bit. 

George beams. "You know, if you feel lonely, you can enter my bubble anytime." He waggles his eyebrows.

Joe barks a laugh. "Jesus Christ, that was terrible." 

Shrugging, George hooks his hands in the straps of his backpack. True, he's out of practice, but he's no less bolder than he was before this shit broke out. "I have another one. Do you want to hear it?"

Joe fakes a suffering sigh, but his eyes are definitely smiling now. "Do I have a choice?"

"If you can resist my charm…"

"I guess not then."

George leans his shoulder against the metal wall and crosses one of his ankles over the other. "Your laughter is positively _contagious."_

"God." Joe snickers, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose before he remembers that he's wearing a mask. He shakes his head. "Painful."

"You're welcome." George laughs and all but bounces on his feet as they leave the elevator and cross the lobby to the entrance.

"Which way?" Joe asks when they step outside. He seems disappointed that George points in the opposite direction, but it's difficult to hear any emotion in his voice over the sound of traffic. "All right. See you around."

He turns, but George calls after him, shouting over the roar of a speeding bus. The flurry of the city fills him with energy and courage. "Hey, Joe?"

"Hm?"

"Netflix and Zoom on Friday?"

Joe grins again and reaches for his phone. "Let me check my calendar."


	5. Silent disco (Speirton)

He's back again tonight. The hot guy with the scar. Out there on the dance floor, rocking and swaying along with his friend to the music only they hear. He's gorgeous under the room's sensual shadows and the pink lights pouring over his body, both charmingly soft and masculine, a real treasure. Ron stands in the corner, looking for suspicious activity as a bouncer at his uni's biweekly silent disco. It's a decent casual job that rarely involves more than the occasional ID check, so he can let his eyes wander a bit.

And wander they do - back to the guy with the scar. His friends call him Lip, that much Ron knows, but his real name is a mystery. He's in a simple blue t-shirt this time that looks like it has been painted on him. The muscles of his arms and chest bulge under the material and all the lines of his torso are clearly visible from Ron's vantage point. Does he like men? It shouldn't matter because Ron will never get to know him, but the question still nags at him. What if he's gay? What if he wouldn't mind that Ron is?

Oblivious to the weight of Ron's gaze, Lip adjusts his wireless headset until it glows red. The retro channel, Ron's mind supplies. The short girl he's dancing with follows suit, and they laugh, singing the words together. Their voices mix with the surrounding noise of laughter and movement, but Ron can hear them clearly nevertheless. It's a great advantage of these events, there's no thumping bass that swallows the sounds. He can't help but smile when he sees the joy on Lip's face. It's so attractive… Helpless, he watches Lip spin the girl into a silly dance, and his fondness starts battling with his jealousy in his heart. He just knows that Lip's hands are as warm as the gleam in his eyes, and he wishes he could feel them on his own skin instead of soaking in the sight of them on the girl.

"I know that dating is a foreign concept to you, but you could give it a chance." Nixon butts into his mesmerized staring without warning.

Ron's lips flatten and his brows draw together. "Leave me alone."

"Someone's tetchy." Nix leans against the wall and sips his drink lazily. He nudges Ron's side. "Trust me, he'd be interested."

"What do you even know?" Ron snaps. His mood sours further when Short Girl loops her arms around Lip's neck and hugs him. Ron wants a hug too. He really does.

"More than you, my friend." Comes Nix's cryptic answer.

Lip chooses that moment to look up, and his eyes meet Ron's. It forces Ron to look away, caught. He takes it out on Nix. "Don't you have your own fucking business to mind?"

"Ouch." Nix raises a hand to his heart. "Seriously, Sparky, just stop being a creep and ask him out."

"It's not that easy." Ron grumbles under his breath.

Nix presses a headset into his hand. "It's that easy."

Ron glares into space, at nothing in particular, frustrated. "I'm working."

"No, you're not." Nix tells him as he walks away. "If you quit looking at him for a second, you'd know!"

Ron is momentarily baffled by that remark, but then he glances at his watch and realizes that, indeed, his three-hour shift has been over for about ten minutes now. He could go out there and dance, he supposes. Except, he's stone-cold sober and something in his gut clenches painfully at the thought of embarrassing himself in front of Lip. It would be awkward if he tried to go up to him. He knows it would be. Most people think he's unaware of his aura, but it couldn't be further from the truth. Just, usually, he uses it to his advantage.

Before he could make up his mind, Short Girl breaks away from Lip and heads straight for Ron's corner, her flaming ginger hair flowing over her shoulders. Ron stands there frozen like a deer caught in the headlights. What the hell does she want? Did they notice him? 

"Hi, sorry, can you tell me where the bathroom is?" She asks, biting her lip and rubbing her left elbow with the opposite hand. Relieved, Ron points at the obvious sign on the other side of the room. She rewards him with a grin. "Thank you! I'll be back in a sec."

She flutters away like a butterfly and leaves him alone with Lip who's standing a few feet away at the edge of the crowd. He smiles at Ron and shrugs. It's enough to reduce Ron to a voiceless statue. 

Lip beckons him with a tilt of his head. "Want to dance with me until then?"

"Okay." Ron replies and forces his fingers to comply as he puts the headphones on. The quiet murmur of the room is immediately replaced by pumping music and his pulse begins to pick up the rhythm. Lip reaches for his hands.

One song follows the other, and they just keep dancing and bouncing and swaying together until Ron forgets about the girl. He's been daydreaming about this for months, and it's finally his. It's a heady feeling. Lip's hands are just as warm as he imagined and they push and pull at Ron in such a playful way that he finds himself laughing. His nervousness disappears. He untangles their fingers and switches the channel on both of their headsets until he finds a slower beat.

"Come closer." He grips Lip's hips and says the words into the small space between their mouths. 

Lip can't hear him but he goes along with it anyway and tangles his fingers in Ron's hair. His eyes sparkle. Ron doesn't think he has ever seen a more beautiful sight. He presses their foreheads together and closes his eyes, giving himself over to the gentle sway of the music. He should have done this sooner, weeks ago. He feels Lip's hand on his temple, slipping down to his ear and pulling the headset off. 

"Kiss me." Lip whispers, and Ron does it.

He turns his head and presses forward until he can capture those soft lips and lick into Lip's mouth. Lip tastes like fruit and summer and fresh water, and Ron wants to drink it all in. They stop dancing in favour of kissing each other senseless right there on the dance floor, as if the world beyond has ceased its existence. Ron wraps his arms fully around Lip's waist, running a palm up and down his back. He rubs his stubbled chin against Lip's and lets Lip's chuckle resonate through his chest.

Lip pushes his headset down until it rests around his neck, then takes Ron's away too. He mouths at Ron's cheek, then breaks into an unexpected giggle. "I've been watching you for weeks now."

"Really?" Ron mumbles and starts swaying again. He can't hear any music without the headset but the motion, that slow grinding and rocking feels too good to resist. Lip follows his movements perfectly, and Ron's pants become tighter with every circle their hips make. Back and forth, side to side...

Lip kisses his ear, and a flush of heat flows down to Ron's groin. "I'm Carwood."

"Carwood." Ron kisses it into Carwood's supple neck, dazed. "I'm Ron."

"Hm-m." Carwood hums like he knew that already. But before Ron could ask him about it, he goes on. "I live just down the road from the uni gym. If you want to… continue this in private."

Ron pulls back just enough to look into Carwood's eyes and finds them clear, not clouded by alcohol. He gives Carwood's smiling lips another kiss and grins back. "I do."

Carwood's smile widens. "All right."

"All right." Ron echoes and takes a step back. Carwood's arms slip away from his neck, but one of Carwood's hands grabs his right.

"I'll just have to find Annie to make sure -" Carwood starts, then stops when he sees the short ginger girl wading through the crowd towards them. "There you are!"

"I didn't want to interrupt." She says with a cheeky wink, and Ron wants the ground to open up under her in his split-second embarrassment. 

"We're leaving." Carwood tells her without bothering with an explanation. He puts his free hand on her shoulder. "Do you want me to call a taxi for you?"

She smiles and shakes her head. "No, it's fine, my brother's boyfriend will drop me off." 

She gestures in the direction of the bar, and Ron raises his eyes. When they land on Nixon, who's waving at them with a smug grin, a murderous flame lights up in his chest. Did he just set Ron up? He wants to march over and ask him, but then Carwood is pulling him towards the cloakroom and Nix's meddling doesn't matter anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is love :)


End file.
